


Shukran

by otptrash



Category: Munich (2005)
Genre: Extended Scene, Friendship, Gen, Israeli character(s), Jewish Character, Munich - Freeform, Palestinian character(s), liberal amounts of dialogue from the movie OTL, they kinda look like brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:18:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otptrash/pseuds/otptrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He continues, aware of Ali’s full attention on him. He’s starting to wonder why he’s participating on this conversation at all. But he can’t stop. He can’t find it in himself not to. He has something to prove.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>“You’ll  die old men in refugee camps waiting for Palestine.” </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Shukran

**Author's Note:**

> my purpose was to expand on this scene between Ali and Avner. i though that more could've been said and felt and seen. but there wasn't. copious amount of quotes from the movie. an exploration of what could've been. non-slash.

 

 

Avner blows smoke from his mouth, staring through the white veil at the man standing on the stairs, who's busy tinkering with his lighter, flipping the cap off and on again. He momentarily pays mind to a sudden noise upstairs, hearing a trickle of static Arabian words coming out from the room his men and Ali's are sharing. Probably the radio then.

 

He keeps his eyes firmly on the PLO member before offering him a cigarette to take the edge off the unexpected encounter between the two groups earlier. He's surprised when Ali takes the cigarette from his hand and mumble a ‘thanks’ in accented English. He wants to say something, though he can’t find it in himself to be bothered. Ali has a quieting demeanour and he appreciates it, all too happy to oblige to the nuances of this stranger in front of him.

 

The noise abruptly switches to a French pop song Avner thinks he's heard of before, and he can definitely hear his men and Ali's walking about upstairs. For a moment, he readies himself for the slightest indication of a scuffle, remembering the tension building inside the room from the moment of the encounter. But the station soon turns to some American music and he notices the ring of laughter.

 

Avner relaxes and he smiles along with them, the cigarette trapped in between his lips. He glances at Ali to see his reaction to his their groups mingling. He could tell he was the leader from the way he ordered his men to lower their guns. But his face is derived of any emotion. Just the slight furrowing of his brows. He looks almost worried.

 

It was understandable. Avner was worried a slip of accent might just blow his own cover, and if he were Ali, he wouldn't hesitate to pull his trigger at an Israeli Jew. Especially one that's working undercover to kill the men who're considered heroes and martyrs in Palestine.

Ali looks up in the same moment and catches Avner watching him. There’s a quizzical expression now on his face and he begins to talk.

 

“Eventually the Arab states will rise against Israel.”

 

Avner raises his eyebrow at that, still watching. Ali turns to him, relaxed.

 

“They don’t like the Palestinians, but they hate the Jews more. It won’t be like 1967. The rest of the world will see by then what the Israelis do to us. They won’t help when Egypt and Syria attack. Even Jordan. Israel will cease to exist.”

 

Avner takes a moment to answer, admires the certainty in Ali’s voice and wonders how this man before him had probably acted when he’d learnt of the assassinations his group have orchestrated. The man looks tired and haggard. His strong jaw and cheeks littered with days old stubble. His dark hair loose and untidy. It's quite similar to Avner's appearance.

 

“What?” Ali asks, impatient for a reply. Demanding it. Something in his voice makes Avner’s hackles rise.

 

“This is a dream. You can’t take back a country you never had,” he says, his German accent purposely thick. He tries to not let the frustration meddle in with his answer, but it does and Ali catches it.

 

“You sound like a Jew.” Ali accuses him almost jokingly. But there’s something else there. Avner curses at him, hoping to stray away from the topic. They’re slowly beginning to tread on dangerous waters.

 

“I’m the voice inside your head telling you what you already know,” he tries. “You people have nothing to bargain with. You’ll never get the land back.”

 

He continues, aware of Ali’s full attention on him. He’s starting to wonder why he’s participating on this conversation at all. But he can’t stop. He can’t find it in himself not to. He has something to prove.

 

“You’ll  die old men in refugee camps waiting for Palestine.”

 

Avner raises the cigarette to his mouth. It’s Ali’s turn now.

 

“We have a lot of children.” He retorts, assured, his hands rising in emphasis. “They’ll have a lot of children. So we can wait forever.”

 

Avner purses his lips at the statement and thinks of how long his own people had to wait.

 

“And if we need to, we can make the whole planet unsafe for Jews.”

 

“You kill Jews and the whole world feels bad for them and thinks you are animals.” He knows this. Ali knows this. While Israel has the world’s sympathy, Palestine does not. They’ve been grouped with the rest of the Arabs. The West and its allies can’t be bothered to differentiate. He doesn’t know why he needed to point it out. But the hope in Ali’s voice grated at him and made his insides twist.

 

“Yes. But then the world will see how they’ve made us into animals. They’ll start to ask questions about the conditions in our cages.”

 

Avner’s controls himself. Annoyed, albeit a bit amused. Ali’s turned poetic, stubborn in his own righteousness and Avner starts to see how they’re even more similar. They may be on different sides in this war their countries have started long before the two of them were conceived, but they share that love countrymen have for their motherland. And they seem so small in the scope of things. He’s not even sure himself if Israel can withstand such animosity from the Arabians who see them nothing more than vermin sent by the West. At least the Palestinians have a reason to hate them.

 

He approaches Ali, walking towards him. “You are Arabs. There are lots of places for Arabs.” Avner is aware he’s being hypocritical, but he can’t be bothered. The words already left his mouth. All he can do is listen for Ali’s reaction.

 

Ali laughs at him, condescending. “You’re a Jew sympathizer.”

 

The smile leaves its place on his mouth and he meets Avner in the middle, stepping down from the stairs. “All you Germans, you’re too soft on Israel. Well, you give us money but you feel guilty about Hitler. And the Jews exploit that guilt.”

 

Avner blows smoke from his lips, staring into Ali’s eyes, which have found his and looking in them in such intensity that for one fleeting moment, he thinks that Ali’s knows who he is. But he breaks his stare and looks down.

 

“My father didn’t gas any Jews,” Ali says almost regrettably, as though wishing the exact opposite. Who knows how many Israelis this man has helped kill. Has killed. Will it be him next? His friends, parents- his wife and children when all these finally bubbles over? It can't be a waiting game for too long. No one has the patience to just sit back.

 

“Tell me something, Ali.”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you really miss your father’s olive trees? Do you honestly think you have to get back all that…”

 

He struggles to contain the boiling anger licking at the surface of his skin, “…that nothing? That chalky soil and stone huts. Is that what you really want for you children?”

 

Ali replies automatically, “It absolutely is. It will takes a hundred years, but we’ll win.”

 

“How long did it take the Jews to get their own country? How long did it take the Germans to make Germany?”

 

“And look how well that worked out.”

 

“You don’t know what it is not to have a home. That’s why you European Reds don’t get it. You say, ‘It’s nothing, but you have a home to come back to.”

 

Avner thinks that Ali couldn’t be any more wrong.

 

“ETA, ANC, IRA… we all pretend we care about your international revolution, but we don’t care. We want to be nations. Home is everything.”

 

Avner’s breath gets caught in his throat and he resists the desire to punch this man who’s got everything so wrong about him, but so right with everything else. He clenches his fist. Too much has been said, on both parts.

Neither he or Ali say anything to that, and Avner lets the conversation settle in his mind, contemplating it. War fought between men with these same ideals taking reign of their minds is a war Avner never wishes to see because there will be no end to it. Not with so much hatred and animosity on both sides of the ever-changing border. But for now he focuses on the situation, if there is one to be focused on. He regrets having his temper get the best of him. Ali doesn't know who he is and what he's been sent to do. He doesn't know what Ali does either. He's probably never killed any Israeli. Just knows how to despise them. 

 

“Avner, I didn’t bring up this conversation to have a petty talk about why I’m here. I only want my men safe, as I think you want yours to be safe too. I wanted to see how you felt.”

 

Ali smiles at him, touching his shoulder and defusing the tension. “For a German you have a lot to say about my country. You sure you are not a Jew?”

 

Avner props himself up on the stone railing of the steps, smiling back. “I never said I wasn’t.”

 

Ali laughs. “As long as you’re not an Israeli. At least you stayed in your own country and didn’t bother with mine. I apologize if I offended you. It wasn’t my intention. My anger is not towards a German Jew.”

 

The weight of the gun tucked in the back of his pants feels heavier somehow with this façade of camaraderie between them. Ali takes a seat on the bottom of the stairs and pats the space next to him. Avner lowers himself, pulling the cigarette butt from his mouth and grinding it against the floor with the heel of his shoe.

 

“Tell me, do you have a wife? Children?”

 

“I have a daughter.”

 

“No wife then?” Ali jokes.

 

“Might not when I get back home.” He winces at the bitterness that slips in his voice.

 

“I understand. Many of the PLO has been left by their wives. They couldn’t wait for an absent husband. Some stay, who believe in our liberation. ”

 

“And you?”

 

Ali glances and him and back down to the floor, shaking his head. “Never. I don’t think marriage is for me. I can die any moment. I guess you could say I’m married to my work. I do care for a nephew. He’s with my mother.”

 

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so keeps quiet.

 

“Are you going anywhere tomorrow?” Ali grounds his cigarette to the floor with his long fingers. Avner nods.

 

“Dangerous?”

 

“Might be.” He takes a stand and takes one last look at the window. Ali shifts and stands too. Avner takes his cue to leave, but Ali grasps his shoulder tightly and turns Avner towards him.

 

He says something in Arabic that sounds vaguely familiar and takes Avner’s face in his hands. They’re warm against his face and Avner’s confused, but before he can say anything, Ali presses a kiss on both his cheeks. He realizes what Ali is doing, has seen it happen with his encounters with Palestinians. It’s something they do between brothers, friends, and comrades. He thinks he should feel disgusted, but he doesn’t. He’s thankful. He feels assured.

 

They part and Ali looks into Avner’s face, taking his hand and shaking it. “I enjoyed our conversation. I wish you safety tomorrow. Thank you for not shooting my men.”

 

Avner struggles to think of something, before his mind finally lends him an answer.

 

“Shukran, Ali.”

 

Ali grins at him and they both climb up the stairs and retire for the night.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> okay, ohmygod i have no idea where this fic went. like i lost the direction probably halfway, i don't know anymore. im so done. soooo done. but i like it enough? i guess, ugh. *despairs*


End file.
